


Escape the Burning Wait

by Ashtree11



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/F, Prince Charming!Edelgard, Sleeping Beauty AU, Sleeping Beauty!Byleth, i can't believe it got this long, i dunno dude, sleeping beauty ajacent?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:14:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26691235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashtree11/pseuds/Ashtree11
Summary: The feud between Sitri and Archbishop Rhea liberated Garreg Mach from the Archbishop's mad obsession with resurrecting the Goddess Sothis. But fighting a war wasn't enough to ensure a safe future for her newborn daughter. With Rhea's threat to make Princess Byleth the next vessel for the Goddess, Queen Sitri and King Jeralt do what they can to protect their daughter from her clutches.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 19
Kudos: 147





	Escape the Burning Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo thanks to a twitter post about fairytale au's with edeleth, this idea would not leave me alone for two whole weeks and it's finally done. 17k words later it's done. Good lord I really let this get away from me heh heh heh.  
> Anyways, I hope you all enjoy; any feedback/comments/kudos are very much appreciated

History would surely record it as a civil war, one that garnered the support of the Adrestian Empire and the ire of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus in the process. 

The opera that later debuted all over Fodlan depicted a melodrama of a feuding mother and daughter and the daughter’s assertion of independence from the Archbishop’s theocracy. It reenacted the five arduous years it took to finally bring Rhea to her knees. The fallen archbishop, at the pointed end of her own daughter’s sword, surrendered unconditionally and steeled herself for her death. But Sitri refrained, unable to strike her down. 

The opera had adapted it as a tearful exchange, one with biting words and watery sobs that ultimately ended in Sitri weakly commanding the woman to leave. Leave and never return, before she changed her mind. To which Rhea did, and thus began the reign of Queen Sitri, the first monarch of the Queendom of Garreg Mach.

Sitri has seen the opera before. Only once, but that was more than enough for her. It was more out of obligation to help boost morale within her people to prepare them for the future reforms that were about to take place.

As she watched her stage-self fight against Rhea in the final act, her mind flashed back to the real fight that had occurred, the one where they nearly fought to their deaths. The stage fight took place in the palace courtyard with the statue of the Goddess overlooking their feud. Poetic as any opera should be, but the real battle had occurred in the throne room, out of sight of everyone let alone the Goddess that Sitri long since learned was dead all along. 

Their armor pieces at the time weren’t shining or pristine like the ones on stage shining under the spotlights, rather they were dented, littered with scratches, and dirtied with blood. Neither of them had exchanged snappy one-liners or spitting insults, rather their swords spoke for them, equally venomous and fueled with their mutual hate and conviction to defeat the other. It wasn’t until Sitri managed to disarm Rhea that their song of metal ceased. Though, their fight didn’t end there either. 

What the opera didn’t portray was the brutal exchange of fists and kicks that had knocked the two of them to the ground. She remembers each and every blow she struck against her mother, likewise she remembered the strikes she received in turn. It went on and on until they were both rendered bruised and bloodied on the floor. The air turned to acid, burning their throats with every desperate gasp they drew.

Rhea stood up and Sitri weakly turned her head to follow the woman as she limped and stumbled over to her fallen sword. In a moment of icy dread, Sitri assumed that Rhea was about to finish her off. She attempted to move, to stand, to do anything to try and defend herself, but her limbs were like lead and every twitch of muscle sent a shot of pain through her. Was this how it all ended? Five years of fighting ends with a whimper?

No—Rhea simply picked up her sword and shambled towards the chamber doors. She paused at the archway, and looked back at her daughter still lying on the stone floor and panting for breath past her grimace and bloodied lips. And as Sitri met her gaze, for a moment she swore she saw her mother staring at her with remorse, her glowing mint eyes glinted with sadness. The moment died in a blink and Rhea disappeared without uttering a single word.

Certainly, the real thing wasn’t as theatrical or narratively cathartic for playwrights to adapt for the stage.

A hand on her leg pulled her out of the memory and her attention snapped up to meet her husband’s worried expression. A silent question danced behind his eyes and it was then that she realized that the performance was coming to an end.

She shook her head and gave him a reassuring smile before joining the rest of the audience in the round of applause and standing ovations as the actors gave their bows with proud smiles.

When it began to quiet down once more, Sitri took Jeralt’s hand in hers and laid her other over her swollen stomach. Jeralt followed the action with a warm smile, one that she was growing accustomed to seeing every day. Having served in the palace guard as its fearless captain for nearly a decade and five more years as a prolific general in Sitri’s army, such softness from the man would catch any stranger off guard.

Three years have gone by since Queen Sitri had reigned independent of the Church of Seiros; three years since she’d seen her mother last. Her advisors cautioned that the former Archbishop may be hiding somewhere in the Kingdom and may be amassing a new army to exact revenge. After all, Rhea didn’t surrender officially, not like the opera implied. 

Being the only nation to support the Church of Seiros and its knights, the Kingdom had lost a considerable amount of land to Garreg Mach in the midst of Rhea’s defeat, and with low morale and little to gain from another conquest against Garreg Mach and its powerful allies, such a possibility was filed away as mere speculation. 

As days turned into weeks, weeks turned to months, and months into years, Sitri allowed herself enough peace to marry Jeralt and bear a child of her own. As she smoothed a hand over her stomach, she did so with the promise that no matter what, she would put her child’s needs first, something her own mother had failed to do time and time again in favor of her own pursuits.

The birth of Queen Sitri and King Jeralt’s daughter was an occasion that was celebrated all across the country of Garreg Mach. Within a matter of days after the announcement, Emperor Ionius IX of Adrestia and other nobles of the Empire and the Leicester Alliance sent missives regarding their attendance for the birthday celebration. After all, the birth of the little princess was the mark of a hopeful future, one that will continue the age of peace following the war.

Queen Sitri greeted her allies with warm welcomes and, with her daughter cradled in her arms, enthusiastic introductions.

“Your Majesties,” Sitri addressed Ionius and his wife, Anselma as they climbed up the steps towards the pair of thrones that overlooked the audience chamber. “This is my daughter, Byleth.” Then she looked down at her baby swaddled comfortably in her sky blue blanket. “Say hello, darling.”

With wide, inquisitive eyes, Byleth regarded the Adrestian Emperor and Empress with small sounds that earned her a round of coos and endeared hello’s. 

“She’s beautiful, Your Majesty,” the Empress Anselma gushed. “She’s going to be quite a looker like her mother.”

At that, Jeralt sauntered up and wrapped an arm around Sitri’s waist. “Better she takes after her mother than me,” he agreed with a smirk.

The celebrations went on for hours, intent on lasting all through the night. Sitri was about to excuse herself to put Byleth to bed when a hush fell over the room. The sea of partygoers parted to the side with surprised whispers as a woman with a familiar golden crown of dragon wings, mint green hair, and two white mountain lilies adorned on both sides.

Sitri’s heart stopped cold in her chest. She pushed herself up from her throne, half in a daze with eyes wide in disbelief, while Jeralt came to her side with his hand held on the ceremonial sword on his belt, ready to defend.

Rhea strode closer to the thrones as if she hadn’t been in exile or presumed dead all this time. She looked as regal and confident as Sitri remembered her. The woman stopped at the foot of the stairsteps, flashing the Queen an easy smile. “You are looking quite well, Sitri.” Her piercing gaze fell onto Jeralt. “And I see you married the captain after all. How quaint. A shame that I couldn’t be there for your wedding, but a belated congratulations to you both.”

“What are you doing here?” Sitri demanded. Rhea was making small talk as if they were simply reuniting after a long business trip and that they hadn’t parted on hostile terms. Her instincts, honed by years of political games and sharpened by the years of her war, told her to be wary. No, ‘wary’ was putting it too mildly. She was on  _ edge  _ and her fingers twitched for the sword at her hip.

Rhea held a hand over her heart in mock offense. “Is that how you greet your mother, darling?” When Sitri didn’t entertain her goading, the woman finally relented and explained herself. “I’m merely here to see my granddaughter, is that so bad?”

Immediately, Sitri positioned her body to shield Byleth’s crib that sat beside her throne. As she did so, the palace guards began to advance. But one shake of her head at the encroaching captain halted them in their tracks. There was no need to arrest her. For now, at least.

“You will not come near my daughter,” Sitri bristled.

“Come now, Sitri, there’s no need to be difficult.”

“Apologies that my years living under you have instilled such poor habits.”

Rhea chuckled, shaking her head at her daughter’s words. “My, my, such a sharp tongue. How far you’ve strayed from the Goddess.” Though her tone carried disappointment and sympathy as if she were addressing a poor unfortunate sinner, Rhea’s smile never faltered. “Well then, if I am unable to extend my granddaughter my own warm welcome into the world, I will instead give her a promise.”

From the pocket of her robe, Rhea produced a single, perfectly spherical stone. To the normal onlooker, it raised inquisitive brows and confused murmuring. But to Sitri, she drew her sword in a flourish. The metal sang as it left its sheath, ringing through the spacious audience chamber that silenced all of its guests into quiet alarm.

“You dare bring that here?” the Queen fumed.

“Only to remind you of the inevitable. The Goddess still requires a vessel.” Rhea traced her thumb over the stone’s engraving, feeling the warm thrum rising to meet her touch. She grinned knowingly as she watched Sitri’s grip on her sword tremble for a moment before returning to its calm, steady hold. “Even now, your blood is being called to this. You’ve shirked your calling, Sitri, and so I’m going to ensure that that mistake isn’t going to happen again.”

“You will not lay a  _ finger _ on my daughter.”

“So you say,” Rhea mused in a light voice. “Post as many guards as you wish. Hide her away anywhere you please. I  _ will _ find her, or more likely  _ she _ will find me. Her blood answers to the same call, and either way Sothis will return. That is my promise.” At the last word, Rhea turned with a haughty smirk and pocketed the Crest Stone.

Behind her, Sitri seethed, “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”

The former Archbishop scoffed and spoke over her shoulder. “Perhaps. Though that implies that you had a chance at all. If I remember correctly, it was  _ I  _ who had the opportunity to kill  _ you _ , my dear. But I’m feeling gracious today, so you are welcome to try now, Sitri.” 

The temptation shot through her spine like lightning, almost spurring her into action had she not regained a semblance of logic and restraint. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t risk the possibility of falling into a trap that would leave her baby and husband exposed for one of Rhea’s spells. So instead, she signalled to Alois, the captain of the guard, to resume his advance.

Just as the soldiers took their first step forward, Rhea chuckled again. “I’ll see you soon, dear.” And in a blink she was gone.

“It’s a warp spell! Search the palace grounds and the city limits, she can’t go far,” Sitri ordered the guards.

“Yes, Your Majesty!” they chorused and rushed out of the audience chamber.

Then she turned to her chief of staff. “See to it that our guests are safely escorted out. I’m afraid I must cut the celebrations short.”

“At once, Your Majesty.”

She sheathed her sword and scooped Byleth up into her arms, holding her close to her chest as her eyes fell shut with fear and remorse. Her mother was back. Fighting a war wasn’t enough to free her—free  _ them _ —from Rhea. “I’m sorry, darling,” she whispered to the tufts of blue hair. “I’m so sorry.”

Jeralt laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’m going with them.”

“Don’t you dare,” Sitri protested, her voice uncharacteristically hushed. “She has already taken much from me, Jeralt, you will not be one of them.”

Any form of protest he had ready died on his tongue at the sight of the pooling tears in his wife’s eyes, and the quiet sounds of distress coming from Byleth rooted his feet in place. With a resigned sigh, he pressed a kiss against Sitri’s forehead in silent apology.

They retired to their chambers soon after where they waited anxiously for news of Rhea’s capture. Or her escape, which was a more likely scenario. 

Sitri rocked back and forth in her chair, as her daughter nursed blissfully. Meanwhile, Jeralt paced back and forth, his hands tightly laced behind his back and his expression solemnly thoughtful. Old habits of a captain died hard. 

When Byleth had her fill, the infant yawned wide and her eyes drifted closed and Sitri shifted her daughter until she was laying on her shoulder and proceeded to pat and rub her back, cooing at her as she did so. At the sound of Byleth’s little burp, she rose from her chair and went about putting the infant to sleep, humming an old lullaby Rhea had taught her. It was perhaps one of the few fond memories she considered worthy of treasuring.

A knock came at the door, snapping the Queen and King’s attention. They shared a look and nodded. With one last kiss on her slumbering baby’s head, Sitri laid her down in her plush crib and joined her husband at the door.

Manuela, the palace physician, greeted them with a small smile. “Good evening, Your Majesties. Alois is holding a meeting and wishes for your attendance.”

“I see...” Sitri said, already dreading the news that awaited her. “Very well. Will you watch over Byleth, Manuela.”

“Of course. I didn’t just come here to play messenger,” the woman assured and the monarchs allowed her inside.

Manuela was a gifted healer and her prowess in combat with both a sword and spellcasting was formidable. Sitri trusted that if something were to happen, Manuela would protect her child. Even so, the stomach-churning paranoia that had taken root within her conjured horrifying scenarios. It wasn’t until Jeralt placed a comforting hand on the small of her back did she finally walk out of the room and towards the war room.

Alois saluted them upon their arrival. “Your Majesties.”

“Did you find her?” Sitri asked, but the sober glaze in his eyes had already answered her.

“My deepest apologies, my Queen, my men searched everywhere. We found no trace of Rhea.”

Devastated, but not surprised, Sitri eased herself down into the chair at the head of the table that housed a large map of Fodlan. She propped her elbows on the arms of the seat and folded her hand together, as if in prayer. She hadn’t prayed since she found out about the truth about the Goddess, and certainly hadn’t prayed when she declared war against the Church and her mother. Who could she pray to? Did she have any right to when she turned her sword against the Church, and the heavens by proxy?

One of her advisors stepped forward with a shallow bow. “If I may, Majesty, Rhea’s threat fixated on the princess may likely be a diversion to hide her true intentions. I suggest that we maximize troop occupation at the Kingdom border to ensure that any surprise insurgents are halted before they can occur.”

Another quickly protested. “Such an increase in occupancy can and will be interpreted as hostile in the Kingdom’s eyes. Rhea came alone and carried no implication or evidence of having their support. Your Majesty, I suggest a different approach to finding Rhea that doesn’t risk raising tensions with the Kingdom.”

“Yes, I agree,” Sitri lamented. She stared at the map, tracing her eyes over the lines that represented rivers and mountains and borders that defined Fodlan. Where had Rhea been all this time? Where was she now?

Proposal after proposal, her advisors discussed amongst themselves the courses of action they could consider. But Rhea’s words rang in her ears, drowning everything else. 

_ Post as many guards as you want. Hide her away anywhere you please. I will find her. _

“What say you, Queen Sitri?”

Sitri tented her fingers, her eyes falling shut as she sighed. “Rhea is cunning as she is unpredictable. This is a woman who was willing to let a city burn to ensure a victory during the war. When her mind is made, there is no redirecting her course. She threatened my daughter tonight, and I don’t believe that there is any hidden intent or sleight of hand being made here.”

The room was silent as her bleak statement sunk in.

“Even so,” the Queen continued, “while I do agree that we must not provoke the Kingdom further, I want Spymaster Nevrand to begin an investigation on their noble families. I doubt the King would be so bold as to support Rhea in making an appearance tonight, but gossip and speculations of Kingdom interference will spark nonetheless. I want that quelled as thoroughly as possible.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” complied the blue-haired woman standing in the dark corner of the room.

“Next...” Sitri stopped. Two options laid before her: one to increase security within the palace, and the other... to hide her daughter away until Rhea could be found. But who knew how long that could take. The idea of being separated from her child indefinitely was too much to bear.

At her prolonged pause, Alois hesitantly took a step forward. “May I ask you something, Majesty?”

“Yes, you may.”

“What was that object Rhea was holding? And what was she going on about a vessel for the Goddess?”

The other advisors nodded their heads along with the captain’s questions, to which Queen Sitri laughed sardonically to herself. She couldn’t hide the true reason behind her war, truth about her mother or her bloodline forever, as much as she had wanted to. 

With a slow, and steady breath, she explained the nature of the Crest Stone, how it had been salvaged and protected as the Archbishop’s most prized possessions, and how it played into the grand scheme of one day resurrecting the Goddess Sothis. She confessed that Rhea had made several attempts through the years to create such a vessel. Sitri was only eleven years of age when she first learned of her mother’s deeds and how each and every one had failed. So many lives were lost to the Crest Stone, so many lost to Rhea’s desperation to resurrect Sothis. And who could Sitri tell? Who would take her word, a mere child, over the word of the Archbishop on a crusade to return Fodlan to its glory days under the Goddess’s loving protection

When she turned sixteen, Rhea surmised that those with the blood of the Goddess would serve as a far more viable vessel. And as the first child born from Rhea in over a millenia, Sitri was slated to become the next candidate. How Rhea came to such a conclusion, Sitri was too frightened to question lest she upset her mother further. 

Jeralt tensed beside her. He had been a low ranking officer at the time and so his contact with the Archbishop and her daughter were far and in between, but even  _ he _ could vividly recall the sudden, unexplainable shift in the woman’s demeanor. Now he knew why.

All the while, the needs of Garreg Mach and its people were neglected, 

“Needless to say, I was terrified,” Sitri remarked with a humorless laugh. “Fortunately, I was able to stall her, insisting that I wished to be properly educated on the teachings of the Goddess before I underwent the ritual. All the while, I couldn’t stay blind to the fact that Garreg Mach and my people were being neglected left to the wiles of a dead Goddess and a sheer veneer of relative peace within the borders. As the next Archbishop expected to assume power after Rhea, I couldn’t allow it to continue.”

Her eyes fell shut as the wave of memories of many late nights of writing and secrecy came over her. She could almost feel the ache in her neck settling in.

“While I stalled my mother, I contacted any nobles that may be able and willing to aid me in removing her from her position. Once I had garnered enough support years later, I declared the war. I anticipated that the rest was to be left to history, but of course, things don’t tend to work in ways we’d like. And now Rhea has two prime candidates for the Crest Stone...”

Once more, the room was quiet, leaving the revelations to hang in the air like an ominous cloud.

“It may not be my place, My Queen,” Alois eventually said. “But perhaps, from one parent to another, I may offer something?”

Sitri righted herself in her chair, not at all expecting the sentiment. Even the other advisors were caught off guard by the perspective. “And what might this insight be?”

The captain puffed out his chest and smiled. “The needs of our children takes precedence over all else. We wish to protect them from harm knowing full well the sort of pain that awaits them out in the world. But there comes a time in every parent’s life when they must understand that the best sort of protection you can offer is one of knowledge.”

“Knowledge?” Sitri parroted.

“Indeed,” he nodded. “You cannot protect little Byleth from Rhea alone, when the time is right, you must allow her the ability to protect  _ herself. _ ”

The Queen raised a brow. “Teach her to fight, you mean.”

“Among other things,” Alois shrugged. “Oh the stories I could share of my own blunders I’ve made when Sharena was small.”

In spite of the heavy situation, the man’s attitude and allusions to enthusiastic anecdotes didn’t fail to make the Queen and King smile to themselves.

“My point to all this is to warn you against keeping the princess in the dark. Sending her into hiding may prove effective, but for how long? If Rhea is as cunning as you say, separating you from the princess will prove only to be needless torture.”

Then the captain got down on one knee and held a tight fist over his heart. “Your Majesties,” Alois continued, his tone serious now, “There will be no safer place for her than here in the palace. I will dedicate all that I am to protect the princess. This I swear to you. And should you deem me worthy I can oversee her training as well.”

Sitri considered the man’s oath, and turned to Jeralt.

He nodded and reached for her hand. “We’ll keep Byleth safe here, Sitri. We’ve dealt with Rhea before, we can do it again. I still got some fight left in me,” he smirked.

She giggled softly. “I’d rather you didn’t, but... you’re right.” She beckoned to Spymaster Nevrand. “Retrieve the original building plans of the palace from the archives. All secret passages need to be warded and reinforced from the outside”

Feeling much more invigorated and focused, Sitri rattled off plans and orders. Well into the night, the war room was alight with discussion, detailing new patrol routes, recruitment for more guards, a proposal for a wall to be built around the palace, and lastly, a timeline for Byleth’s education.

When they eventually returned to their bedroom, Manuela dutifully reported that the princess had slept without issue before excusing herself. Sitri lingered beside Byleth’s crib, watching the infant sleep peacefully as she stroked a finger over her soft tufts of hair.

“You should rest, Sitri,” Jeralt called to her while he dressed in his night clothes.

“In a moment,” she said. As if on cue, Byleth stirred in her sleep and started to fuss. With a tired, but thankful smile, Sitri took her in her arms and started rocking her before she could begin crying in earnest. All the while, she could feel Jeralt’s eyes at her back. 

“Are we making the right decision?” she finally said after a few long moments of silence.

“We’re not giving up our kid, Sitri,” he said with conviction. “You said it yourself, Rhea took a lot from you, maybe even more than that if you didn’t do what you did. We’re not gonna let her take away our chance to raise our kid together.”

Sitri sighed and finally faced her husband. “When I was carrying Byleth, I promised her that I would put her needs before all else. Tonight has made me question how much I believe in my own words.”

“You think hiding her away was the better choice?” he asked. He spoke slowly, not at all accusatory or scolding; just simply intent on letting his wife speak her mind.

“I don’t know. Until Rhea is captured or... or killed, she isn’t safe. But even if sending her into hiding was the best thing to do, I don’t think I’d have the strength to let Byleth go like that.”

“We’re both new to this whole parenting thing, but I know enough to say that you should never have to do that. We will protect her.”

Sitri’s lips pressed together into a thin line, still unsure and conflicted as ever.

Then Byleth wriggled in her arms with small grunts of effort. Tiny fingers stretched and reached aimlessly for something until a lock of Sitri’s long green hair, long since freed from her crown, fell into her grasp. Sitri giggled, her heart swelling as she playfully shook the little fist between her thumb and forefinger. After a moment though, her smile turned melancholic. It was because of her that they were in this situation. This was her responsibility the moment she went against her mother. She will see it through to the end, if only to ensure that they wouldn’t miss a moment of Byleth growing up.

“Your father is right, darling,” she murmured to Byleth before pressing a kiss on her head. “We’ll protect you. We will.”

Everything was in order. Hanneman thinks she’s out training, Manuela thinks she’s studying with Hanneman, and Alois thinks she’s helping out in the infirmary with Manuela. If none of them could find her, they’ll think she moved to the library and report to her parents with such. She’ll be back in the palace before anyone could see the cracks in her story. Years of practice has assured her of that. 

Byleth navigated the palace and avoided as many guards as possible. The less eyes she had on her the better. 

Soon enough she made out into the courtyard and pressed onwards towards the wall that made up the palace’s perimeter. “It wasn’t always there,” she often overheard older guards educating the new recruits. “Construction concluded when the princess turned five years of age.”

She knew why it existed. It was meant to not only keep her grandmother out, but to keep  _ her _ in. No one could warp in or out of the palace grounds thanks to an enchantment of Hanneman’s own creation, but that hardly stopped the rambunctious princess from finding another way around the problem. Or rather, in her case  _ through _ it. 

In the south most end of the wall was a storm drain that stood half submerged in water. The last bar on the left was just loose enough for her to dislodge it and slip past. She was fourteen when she first discovered it and five years later it has become her gateway into the outside world.

Yet, no matter how many times she’s done it, she imagined what her mother’s reprimanding lecture would sound like: “It’s dangerous to venture out like this, Byleth. What will happen if Rhea finds you? I would be beside myself if something were to happen to you, darling. Please don’t go.”

She sighed. She had trained hard, studied harder, and listened to her mother’s warnings about her grandmother for years. And yet, for as much danger as her parents and her mentors have drilled into her head over and over again, nothing has  _ happened _ .

She loves her parents. She can see how much Rhea frightens them. But the palace was suffocating, she needed to get out and  _ breathe _ , damn it. What’s the point of making her train and study to protect herself if she couldn’t go out into town once in a while and live life outside of the palace?

For years, the guards were her only windows to the outside and she’s gotten very adept at eavesdropping. The other day, one of them mentioned that the lake was teeming with fish this season, more so than the pond artificially made on the palace grounds and required the staff to keep it stocked. Fishing at the lake instead of the pond sounded amazing, and her imagination conjured whistling trees and gentle lapping of water. It called to her. 

Which brought Byleth to where she was now. She dug through the bushes and retrieved the items she had hidden there ahead of time. She slung over her shoulder a sack of fishing line, hooks, and various snack foods to last her the afternoon. Then strapped her trusty dagger her father gifted her for her fifteen birthday, and a short sword from Alois to her waist. Lastly, in a leather holster at the small of her back was a combat tome from Manuela. If today was somehow the day she finally got caught sneaking out, then at least she could say that she left prepared for a fight just like they all taught her.

With grunts of effort, Byleth dislodged the loose bar from its slot and slipped through the gap. A dark, yawning tunnel greeted her with a speck of light just waiting beyond. She bounced on her feet, excited and impatient to leave.

When she emerged from the dark tunnel, somehow the sun shined differently from how it did over the palace. Things looked vivid and bright. Sounds were crisper, tickling against her ears. She smiled serenely, craning her neck up to feel the warmth on her face and she breathed in deep.

Without another moment to lose, Byleth bounded deeper into the woods, leaving the prison of her home behind.

Edelgard’s ears perked a second after her horse craned his neck towards the strange noise coming from across the brook. She pulled on the reins to stop and listen closer. It sounded like... singing? It was too far to make out any words, but it was no less melodious and alluring. 

“You hear it too, Hubert?” she spoke in a hush. “What is that?” Or rather  _ who is that? _ was the better question.

Logic dictated that it’d best leave the person be and continue on her way. This letter to Garreg Mach’s queen and king wasn’t going to deliver itself, after all. But her limbs completely ignored logic and guided her horse towards the source of the singing. This wasn’t the first time her curiosity acted of its own volition, she supposed, might as well see where it led her.

Treading the path carefully, her horse carried her through the sparse forest and the singing grew louder and louder until Edelgard could start to make out the words. It was a simpler rendition of an operatic ballad of The Girl in the Tower. She remembers seeing that opera with her mother once when she was young and fondly recalls enjoying it. The voice that carried through the winds and over the babbling brook her horse trotted beside sang it beautifully. It wasn’t to the levels of Mittelfrank but it would captivate an audience all the same if the voice was in a marketplace or some such.

At last, the singing was as loud as it possibly could be, and through the thicket of bushes and trees, Edelgard could see a lake surface glittering under the afternoon sun. She dismounted her horse and tied him to a tree. She dug into her pockets for a fist full of treats to give him before slowly moving forward towards the brush. She peered out and scanned the lakeshore for the voice.

There, sitting at the edge of the sloshing lake edge was a woman with a long tree branch held in both hands and looked to be tying something to one end of it. The woman continued her song as she finished the knot and proceeded to put her teal hair back into a ponytail.

Edelgard was unable to tear her gaze away. Normally, she was indifferent towards waxing poetry about water and the natural beauty water possesses. But somehow, watching the woman go about seemingly mundane tasks made it look like the most ethereal place Edelgard could possibly stumble upon.

_ Ugh. I must look like a stalker _ .  _ I shouldn’t stay any longer, _ Edelgard told herself. 

She made to walk away, only to have a twig snap under her boot.

A twig snapped and Byleth startled, dropping the fishing rod immediately to draw her dagger and expertly threw it in the direction of the sound.

A figure yelped and ducked just in time, and the dagger sunk deep into the tree behind them.

Byleth didn’t let them recover and quickly retrieved her sword, ripping its scabbard away before making her advance. “Who are you?” she demanded.

The figure raised their arms and stood up from the bushes. Long brown hair tied off with lavender ribbons entered her vision first, followed closely by bright violet eyes that were wide and alert. And there Byleth’s gaze stayed, transfixed. For a moment, her hold on her sword faltered. 

The woman looked to be around her age, perhaps even a couple years younger. She kept her arms raised over her head as she spoke, “My apologies. I was just passing through.”

Byleth kept her sword level. “I don’t recall ‘just passing through’ to include long periods of lingering and watching someone fish.” 

“No, I suppose not. Again, my sincerest apologies. I promise I am unarmed at the moment, my supplies are still with my horse. I had heard singing as I was riding by and my curiosity got the better of me.”

Singing? Byleth’s singing? “Oh.” The sword lowered and the magic in her hand winked out of existence. Was she really singing that loudly?

“You sing beautifully,” the woman complimented, not looking at all bothered that she almost received a dagger to the face or that a blade was level to her throat mere moments ago. “It’s been ages since I’ve heard The Girl in the Tower.”

“Thank you.” Byleth scratched the back of her head sheepishly. “I didn’t think anyone would be around to hear me. Fishers favor coming here in the mornings and the lake is a little out of the way for most people to swim in.”

The woman bowed her head politely. “If you don’t mind me saying, miss,” she raised her head, and her lips upturned into a charming smile. “I’m glad that I was able to listen to your song. It was a welcome reprieve after the journey I’ve undergone.”

A blush creeped into Byleth’s cheeks. She was used to praises from Manuela during their lessons, or from her other mentors for that matter. But it was leagues different hearing one from a stranger. Something like that was dangerous, her mother would no doubt say. Accepting compliments so readily from people she didn’t know could leave her vulnerable to any ulterior motive they may have. 

“I’m sure you don’t mean that, miss. I still have a lot to learn,” she deflected.

“Well, everyone must start somewhere. And where I am from, we are known for our opera company so I know a voice when I hear one.”

“Do you make a habit of showering praises to strangers like this?” Byleth said, trying desperately to get a grip on her suddenly erratic heartbeat.

“That depends. Will my answer affect whether I can inquire to accompany you in your task?”

The way the woman spoke reminded Byleth of the nobles and visiting officials that often came to the palace for business. Her posture was perfect and her expression a picturesque show of calm and charm. Maybe she was a noble or a well off merchant of sorts. Her clothes certainly look to be well made if the crimson fabric was anything to go by. Ostentatious colors were commonplace for those with wealth, or so she’s seen. Though it’s possible that where the woman is from red is a casual palette. She was tempted to ask the woman who she was, but that in turn would require her to reveal her own name. ‘Byleth’ wasn’t exactly the most inconspicuous name in Fodlan and the  _ last _ thing she needed for this woman spread the word that the princess of Garreg Mach was out and about. Not that she looked to be the type to gossip, but if Byleth inherited one thing from both her parents it was their cautiousness.

Strangely enough, the woman herself didn’t seem to be in any rush for proper introductions either as she simply opted to stand and patiently await Byleth’s answer to her question. 

What was it again?

Byleth blinked back to the present and cleared her throat. “I don’t usually have company while I fish,” she said eventually.

The woman nodded, her violet eyes turning downward for a moment and quickly faced forward again. Was she... disappointed? “I see. Very well then I shan’t take any more of your time, miss. I hope you enjoy the rest of your afternoon.” She bowed to her and went to leave.

But before she knew what she was doing, Byleth called out, “Wait.”

The woman halted. She turned her head, facing Byleth with her brows raised in surprise and curiosity.

“I... I didn’t mean to imply that as a ‘no.’ I’m not used to having company, but I would like you to stay. I suppose it’s the least I can do after almost killing you,” she said with an attempt to joke.

It seemed to work as the woman chuckled. “On the contrary, your reaction is more than justified. If anything, my leaving would be a repayment for startling you so.”

“Not if I invited you first,” Byleth said with finality before confessing, “You’re fun to talk to.”

The woman raised a brow as she stepped through the bushes and came up beside Byleth. “I didn’t realize that I’ve upheld a compelling conversation thus far. What sort of conversation partners have you had before this? They must’ve been dreadfully boring.”

Byleth’s laugh was a short exhale. A ghost of a smile formed on her lips as she led the woman back towards her little camp and picked up the discarded scabbard to finally sheath her sword. “My mentors and parents mostly. I don’t have many people to talk to.”

“I see. Then I’m happy to have set a higher standard for you.”

Byleth picked up her fallen fishing rod and reeled in the line. As expected, her bait was taken but at least the hook was still in good shape. She offered to make her new companion a rod of her own, but she politely declined saying that she’d rather just sit and enjoy the quiet.

“Did you travel far?” Byleth wondered as she baited her hook and casted her line out into the water.  
“Yes, I’m here on business from Enbarr.”

Byleth whistled. All the way from Adrestian territory. “No wonder you wanted to take time to rest.”

“Indeed,” she chuckled. “Normally I would avoid large bodies of water, but I can’t help but feel a bit homesick. The gentle sounds here reminds me of the place my family and I once had picnics in.”

She hummed thoughtfully. Homesickness? What was that like? Did being sick of home count in her case? “As landlocked as we are, Garreg Mach does have some nice lakes and ponds. Nothing like Enbarr’s beaches though.”

“Comparing a lake to an ocean is hardly fair,” the woman mused as she gazed out over the lake. “Do you come here often?”

“Not as often as I’d like,” Byleth answered dryly.

“Such is life, isn’t it? Always preoccupied with responsibilities?”

“More like preparing for something that isn’t coming.”

The woman looked over at her, head tilted to the side in wonder. “Oh?”

Byleth waved a hand. “It’s personal. Let’s just say my parents are the worst sort of overprotective.”

“I see. I’m sorry to hear that. It’s unfortunate that you have not been able to cut your own path. Fear is a powerful thing.”

At that, Byleth scoffed, albeit weakly. “I couldn’t have said it better myself. Me being here is as good as I can manage, though.”

The woman raised an amused brow. “Playing a fugitive are you?”

Byleth hushed her, flashing her a grin that exposed her canine. “Not so loud, miss.”

She giggled behind a hand before speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “Oh, my apologies. I shall not breathe a word of this meeting then.”

“Thank you, I am indebted to you,” Byleth motioned with a dramatic bow of her head.

“Careful now, I may ask to call upon that debt sooner than you think,” the woman smirked.

Byleth shook her head, chuckling while giving her fishing line a slight tug. With how much they were talking, it’s no surprise that the fish weren’t biting. Though, she didn’t find herself minding one bit. “Should I be wary of what you have in mind?”

“Of course not. I was simply hoping to request more occasions such as this.”

“Is fishing that captivating to you?” Byleth teased incredulously.

“I think I can begin to see the appeal. And the fisher herself isn’t terrible company either.”

“Is it really my company or my singing?” came the haughty challenge. “A woman of Enbarr with a taste for opera hoping for a private concert, maybe?”

The woman’s stride did not falter. “Oh your singing was absolutely bewitching, miss, but your company is what has made me linger willingly. And as tantalizing as a private concert may be, I am more than content with simple conversation. If you will have me, of course.”

Byleth’s eyes fell to her lap. Could her cheeks be any redder? She doubts it. “You truly mean that?”

“Every word,” the woman insisted. She leaned back on her hands, idly plucking at blades of grass. “I can empathize with your situation, as vague as you kept it thus far at least. It’s relieving to know that I am not alone, so I suppose my asking you for another meeting is hinged upon that feeling.”

Byleth scoffed. “You’re the one who’s able to travel while I ‘play fugitive,’ as you called it.”

“True, I don’t know the severity of your situation.” she conceded. “With my own parents, it took me months to finally convince them to allow me to make this journey. It was an exuberant amount of time, but it wasn’t fruitless.”

Byleth stared at her. “You just... talked to them?”

“Easier said than done, don’t mistake me,” she grinned. “Still, everyone must start somewhere.”

Byleth paused, mulling over her words. “You know, for a long time I’ve resigned myself to thinking that my parents would always just be afraid. So speaking with them doesn’t sound easier said than done, rather it’s almost too simple of a solution.”

In spite of herself, the woman chuckled. “Forgive me, miss, I don’t mean to laugh at your expense it’s just... my, what a predicament.”

“I don’t mind,” Byleth laughed along. “Regardless, thank you for the piece of advice. I have much to think about.”

“My pleasure, miss,” the woman bowed her head.

“I promise when we meet again our conversation won't be quite so downcast.”

“I hardly mind,” she reassured. “Will I learn your name when that time comes?”

Byleth reclined her head, feigning thoughtfulness. “Maybe. Will I learn yours?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed. It sounds like a fair trade to me.”

Byleth turned to face the woman properly and held out a hand for her to shake. “A deal then?”

The woman raised an amused brow before laughing softly and grasping Byleth’s proffered hand. “You have my word, miss.” Their hands shook.

_ Heh. My first trade deal as a princess. _ Byleth thought jokingly to herself. 

“Well. As much as it pains me to say, I must leave.”

“Ah, yes don’t be late for your business appointment on my account. Thank you for joining me, miss.”

“No need to thank me. Thank  _ you _ for allowing me in the first place.”

“And, uh, sorry for throwing a dagger at you,” Byleth added sheepishly.

“Just a memorable first impression, miss, nothing more.” The woman tenderly took Byleth’s hand and placed a kiss against her knuckles.

“You’re awfully nonchalant about almost dying today,” Byleth spoke around her rising blush.

Proving her point further, the woman only shrugged. “I’m not one to hold a grudge, especially now that I’ve gotten to know the thrower more.”

With a parting wink and charming smile, the woman turned and walked back towards the brush from whence she came through. Byleth’s gaze followed after her, sighing at the returned solitude. She hardly felt the tug on her line as she fell into deep thought and the beginnings of longing.

***

“My Queen, Princess Edelgard von Hreselvg has arrived. Shall I have her wait in the throne room?” the butler relayed, keeping his voice appropriately low for the library.

Sitri looked up from her novel, smiling at the news. “No need for formality. Escort her to the study. I’ll be there shortly. Oh, and please bring us some pastries and bergamot tea.”

“At once, Your Majesty,” he bowed and left.

“She’s here pretty early, huh?” Jeralt said from the library’s second level where he perused through their collection of outdated maps. 

“Better for her to be early. It puts my mind at ease that she had a safe journey.” Sitri closed her book, set it aside, and stood up to stretch. “Byleth should join us. She and Edelgard may get along well.”

“Speaking of which, I haven’t seen that kid all day,” Jeralt murmured as he tried to think where he might’ve seen his daughter last. Was breakfast really the last time?

“She works hard...” Sitri trailed, feeling the beginnings of guilt in her chest. “Sometimes I wonder if maybe we’ve let this go too far. After all, it's been nineteen years. If my mother wanted to attack, surely she would’ve done it by now...” All the scouts they’ve sent out, countless days of Shamir’s investigations for any trace of Rhea and turning up with none—had it all been for nothing? She didn’t want to think so. She wanted to believe that she knew her mother well enough to anticipate her moves, and wanted to reason that Rhea was still biding her time for the moment Sitri lowered her guard. But the test of time had called all of it into question.

Jeralt sighed and leaned against the banister. “If you’re thinking about cutting the kid some slack, then I’m all for it. We’ve done all we can so maybe now’s the time to move on.”

Pensive silence fell between the two with only the ticking of the grandfather clock to fill the space. 

“Why don’t I look for her, and we can talk about this as a family?” Jeralt proposed with a reassuring smile.

After a moment, Sitri nodded. “Alright. It’s a talk long overdue. I believe Hanneman mentioned that she was training with Alois. I wouldn’t be surprised if she were still there.”

He saluted his queen and winked. “I’ll be over as soon as I find her.”

Smoothing the front of her dress, Sitri pushed open the double doors of her study and strode inside. Edelgard stood over by one of the shelves, admiring a dragon figurine there before her attention snapped towards the open doors.

She bowed before the Queen, bending at the waist and her arm perfectly held behind her back while the other crossed over her chest. “Your Majesty,” she greeted.

“Princess Edelgard,” Sitri returned with a nod. “I trust your trip was uneventful?”

“Yes, Your Majesty, and thank you for granting me an audience.”

“Anything for the daughter of Ionius and Anselma,” Sitri said a chuckle and motioned for the princess to take a seat in front of the desk. “A servant should be here any moment with tea and pastries. Your father wrote to me saying that you favor bergamot and sweets.”

A hint of pink dusted Edelgard’s cheeks. “Did he now? You needn’t trouble yourself to brew my favorite tea, Your Majesty. I am not as picky as he no doubt painted me.”

“Nonsense. You are a guest, Edelgard, tea and pastries are the least that I can do for you. Besides, there is nothing wrong with having a preference.”

Moments later, a servant came knocking and entered with a serving tray holding the tea and treats. 

“You know, Edelgard,” Sitri began as she poured their cups. “With how often your parents write about you, I feel like I already know you.”

The Princess accepted the cup graciously, trying to ignore her ever reddening face. “I hope that whatever embarrassing stories they’ve shared doesn’t soil our discussion of business.”

“Oh nothing like that, dear. They’re rather adamant about singing praises about your tenacity and focus. There’s been a bit of boasting about your artistic pursuits as well, but I can understand if you’d rather keep it on topic.”

Edelgard sighed in relief. She was still going to speak with her parents when she returned home though. “Yes please, Your Majesty. I have several ideas about increase in trade and Adrestia’s ties with Brigid has become stronger over the years that I think can benefit—”

Frantic knocking interrupted them, and the door swinging open to reveal a panting Jeralt made them jump in their seats. Alois stood behind him, looking equally disheveled and distraught.

“Jeralt?” Sitri said.

“I can’t find Byleth.”

Sitri stood up, nearly spilling her tea in the process. “What?”

“I looked everywhere and no one’s seen her. Something’s wrong.”

Sitri felt her heart plummet, and her limbs turned to ice. Had Rhea somehow infiltrated the palace? That shouldn’t be possible, they’ve warded every square inch of it and the secret passageways and hidden rooms were under lock and key. Unless... Byleth was lured out?

_ Or she will find me. Her blood answers to the same call. _ That was what Rhea said. Had that finally come to pass? Had the Crest Stone called her daughter away? Then again, Sitri would’ve surely felt the same call as well, wouldn’t she?

“Alois,” Sitri began, as calmly as she could manage. “She wasn’t training with you? Hanneman informed me that she was.”

“No, Majesty,” Alois said with a low bow. His voice cracked as he spoke. “Byleth had told me that she was going to help Manuela in the infirmary, but when we looked there, Manuela said that the princess was taking an extra lecture with Hanneman.”

So Byleth wasn’t lured out. She had lied about where she was going to three different people. No, Byleth wasn’t lured... “She snuck out,” Sitri concluded.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved or furious.

“Snuck out?” Alois breathed. His mind raced, reciting the layout of his men’s patrols and any weaknesses in their defenses. “But how...”

“Alois, send a search party into the city and a guard at the city gates. No one gets in or out until Byleth is safe. She couldn’t have gone far.” She says that, but as she paced about the room, the dark part of her mind reminded her that her daughter had been gone all afternoon. So much could’ve happened already.

The man nodded curtly and left in haste. 

Then Sitri looked to Edelgard. “Apologies, Princess, I’m afraid that I must cut our conversation short.”

“Think nothing of it, Your Majesty. Allow me to aid in your search.”

“Thank you, but I couldn’t possibly ask you to—”

Edelgard stood with a determined set in her jaw. “I insist. Just tell me who I am looking for.”

Sitri looked ready to protest, but the gravity of the situation cracked her already tenuous resolve. “Very well. It’s my daughter Byleth. We all believed that she was training today, but if she’s nowhere to be found in the palace she must’ve snuck away somehow.

Edelgard hummed, her brows furrowing with deep thought. An inkling began to percolate in her mind. “Does she train often?”

The Queen nodded solemnly and Jeralt came up beside her and wrapped an arm around her. “Yes. We... we wanted her to be prepared, to be able to defend herself. But we’ve let this go too far. If something were to happen to her, I would never forgive myself.”

_ More like preparing for something that isn’t coming. _

Could it be that simple? She took one long look at the Queen and her features. The same face cut, the same gentle eyes though the Queen’s were dark with sorrow while the woman at the lake’s were alight with freedom and relief. And in the brief moment where she had seen the Queen smile, it reminded her of the woman’s.

She never learned the woman’s name before she left, but that didn’t stop her thoughts from wanting to make the connections. The first thought that came to mind upon this realization was:  _ Oh Goddess my  _ behavior _. I acted like  _ that _ in front of the princess?  _ The second, and more rational thought was: If the woman at the lake was indeed Princess Byleth, then that’s where they needed to go. 

“I believe I know where she is.”

Sitri’s eyebrows shot to her forehead.

Byleth tugged on her pole, gritting her teeth as the fish fought against her, but no less determined to pull it to shore. After a long battle, the fish finally surrendered and Byleth had a fresh catch to savor. From her pack, she pulled out a roll of paper to wrap it in. 

She could easily say that she caught it from the palace pond in what little freetime she carved for herself. It was a decent catch, her father will be proud of it for sure. They would talk about the fight it put up and how good it tasted, her mother would praise her as she took a bite of her own, and the conversation would stagnate and change to a new topic. Another day come and gone and tomorrow will no doubt be the same. 

She thought about what the woman had told her earlier. Talking to her parents about... well  _ everything _ . How she would even begin to breach such a lofty topic, she was still trying to parse out. Hopefully, her parents can set aside their fear long enough to actually listen.

She rebaited her hook and pulled her arm back to cast out her line. Until, suddenly, a dull thrum pulsed through her, making her breath hitch. She paused. What was that? Another pulse. A shiver ran up her spin, spreading to her fingertips. Her heartbeat grew and thundered in her ears. Another thrum. Her thoughts turned foggy and her muscles relaxed until the fishing rod fell from her loosened grasp. 

What...?

Turning her head felt like she was underwater, sounds were muffled and her movements were sluggish. 

Another thrum. 

It was coming from deeper in the woods. It had to be.

Byleth stood up. A short dizzy spell had her swaying on heavy feet as she wandered away from her camp and towards the treeline. Her years of training screamed at her to stop and turn around immediately. But her legs continued onward and a floating thought echoed in her mind saying that when she found what was making the noise everything will be fine.

She wasn’t sure what that meant, but it sounded nice.

Deeper and deeper into the woods she walked, pulled along by some invisible rope and the thrumming was growing louder and louder until it was pounding in her veins, almost painfully. It spurned her to walk faster if only to relieve her of this strange sensation.

At last, she broke through a thicket and stumbled into a wide, open meadow. At the center was a large boulder and resting on it was a glowing red stone.  _ That _ was what she needed. Once more, her feet carried her forward. Wildflowers and tall grass crunched beneath her boots, parting away as Byleth trudged and trudged and trudged.

_ What was that thing? _ she wondered, past the haze that blanketed her mind. 

“So long. For so long I’ve waited,” said a reverent voice.

Byleth blinked and stopped in her tracks. Blearily, she glanced over at the direction of the voice to find a woman with mint green hair and a golden crown of dragon wings. “Who...” she croaked but couldn’t say any more.

“Fear not, child. I will not harm you.”

Byleth grimaced through the haze and said, “That’s not... what I asked.”

The woman chuckled behind a hand and wandered closer over to her. “You’ve certainly inherited your mother’s tongue. You remind me so much of her, dear Byleth.”

_ My mother? How does she know my name? _

Realization hit her like a horse hitting her at full galloping speed, and in an instant, the haze fell away and she scrambled away from the woman. Her hand flew to her waist to draw her sword, only to find that she had left it back at the camp. Cursing under her breath, she raised her hands and conjured balls of fire in her palms. At least she still had her tome in its holster at her back.

“Rhea,” Byleth said, baring her teeth at the woman.

It didn’t faze her one bit. “My, my, now you truly do resemble your mother. Neither of you seem to be capable of addressing me properly. But I am glad that she had the courtesy of telling you who I am. It makes this all so much easier.”

“Makes  _ what _ easier?” Byleth demanded. Another thrum and it made her sway slightly. She growled at herself in frustration. “What is happening to me?”

Instead of answering right away, Rhea leisurely walked over to the stone, plucked it up into her hand, and she held it up for Byelth to see. “It calls to you, does it not?”

Byleth winced as another pulse went through her. “Why?”

“It is your destiny, dear one. The Crest Stone of the Goddess calls upon those within her bloodline. It calls to you as it once called to your mother.”

She swung her arm outward, sending a fireball straight towards her grandmother. This is what she’s been training for. This is what her parents wanted her to defend herself from. But she was already incapcitated as her mind and limbs slipped back into the lulling haze caused by the Crest Stone. Her attack missed Rhea by a wide margin and smoldered a large patch of grass.

Byleth wobbled, struggling to remain upright. She conjured a new flame. “I’m not going to be a vessel for you,” she declared as strongly as she could muster.

“Oh, it isn’t for me,” Rhea corrected sweetly. “It is for a much higher calling, dear Byleth. The Goddess must return to Fodlan. It will be for the good of us all and you will be the catalyst of many blessings to come.” She took a step towards her.

And Byleth threw another fireball. It missed. She conjured another. “Stay away from me.” The thunder in her ears resumed. She felt beads of sweet beginning to gather at her forehead. Eventually, one started to roll down her temple. “Make it  _ stop _ !”

“The only way for it to cease is to accept the Crest Stone,” Rhea gently explained, reminding Byleth of how her mother had spoken to her whenever she came down with an illness. Instead of comforting her though, she was even more unsettled.

“The hell I will,” she gritted. 

“You can’t ignore its call, Byleth,” Rhea coaxed.

“My mother did, so will I.” How did Sitri handle this? It felt as though her insides were being torn apart, like it was trying to make room for something. Her heartbeat spiked at that thought. Beneath her, her knees began to tremble as she tried to take a step backward with every one Rhea took.“Please. Don’t come near me.”

“I hate to see you like this, little one. I can only imagine how awful it must be. Let me help.”

Byleth doused out her flames and flexed her fingers. Blue-white sparks of electricity jumped from her fingertips with a cacophony of crackle. For a moment, there was clarity and she breathed in her first lungful of fresh air as she shot lightning out with the perfect accuracy Manuela had taught her. Rhea barely had enough time to dodge out of the way of the blast.

In a blink, Byleth watched as rage flashed over Rhea’s eyes, then the woman lunged at her. Before Byleth could summon another round of lightning, Rhea was already inches from her face, her teeth bared to reveal sharp fangs and her pupils were dark slits in her sharp green eyes.

She felt something slam into her chest. She gasped. She jerked, muscles spasming. Her eyes widened and her mind urged her to look down. What did Rhea do? What did she  _ do? _

But she was afraid. She couldn’t look.

A surge of heat enveloped her, smothering the air in her lungs until her beating heart slowed. And slowed. And slowed.

Darkness crawled at the corners of her eyes as she clutched at Rhea’s robe while the woman cradled and lowered her to the ground.

“Shhh, it’s alright. It’s alright. You are about to be a part of something incredible, my child.”

Her head lolled to the side as she was laid on the grass. The last thing she saw before succumbing to unconsciousness was her splayed out hair turning the same shade of green as Rhea’s.

“It’s just this way,” Edelgard said and nudged Hubert into a canter.

Jeralt and Sitri rode their own horses just behind her, both wearing identical worried expressions.

In spite of this though, Jeralt still managed some words of encouragement. “We’ll talk this out, Sitri, and our kid is strong if anything really happened.” He laughed to himself. “It’s funny though, but still not surprising that our kid could’ve got up to something way more serious but she snuck out to go fishing.”

Sitri giggled. “Yes, I suppose that is a very Byleth thing to do.” Her expression turned somber once more as she sighed, “I just hope that it’s not too late to talk.”

“If it’s any consolation, Your Majesties,” Edelgard called over her shoulder. “ I understand from experience that coming forward to one’s parents is a daunting but necessary act. And to me, Princess Byleth sounded as though she was at least considering coming to you for discussion. The fact that you will be receptive to what she has to say will be the encouragement she needs.”

Sitri fixed the princess with a grateful smile. “Thank you, Edelgard. My husband and I are very fortunate that you’ve come along to share such words with her—” 

Suddenly, the Queen stopped, the words dying in her throat as her attention snapped to the side. A deep frown marred her features as she felt a dull thrum pulse from within her chest. Then she gasped as panic and dread barreled through her. “No... no, no, no,” she breathed.

“What’s wrong?” Jeralt asked in alarm.

“The Crest Stone... Byleth!” Sitri yanked on her horse’s, turning it abruptly to the right and kicked it into a gallop.

“Sitri!” Jeralt called after her but the Queen had already sped away. He growled in frustration and gestured at Edelgard to follow. “Come on, Princess.”

“What’s happening?” Edelgard shouted over the clomping of hooves and rushing wind.

“Exactly what Sitri and I  _ didn’t  _ want to happen. We’ll explain later.”

Sitri pushed her horse to run faster. The call of the Crest Stone tried to numb her mind, but she fought against it. Distantly, she could hear Jeralt and Edelgard trying to catch up to her. She couldn’t wait or even pay them any mind. Her single-minded determination to get to the Stone before her daughter provided her the clarity from the Stone’s thrall to guide her horse through the woods. As the call grew stronger, so did her resolve.

Up ahead, she could make out a meadow through the thicket and the Stone’s thundering draw was all but blaring in her ears.

But then... it stopped. 

“What?” Sitri murmured. Her horse continued forward and leaped over the bushes that separated the woods from the meadow. She pulled the reins back, halting her horse and clutched a hand against her chest. She frowned down at herself. Why did it stop? 

When she raised her head, however, ice filled her veins, a cry tore out of her throat. Rhea. Rhea was lowering her unconscious daughter to the ground. Byleth’s expression was screwed with silent pain, and her hair, once a deep blue, was now light green. 

The world might as well have crumbled all around Sitri, she wouldn’t have noticed either way, not when her heart was shattering.

Rage boiled and bubbled within her. The wind around her kicked up and swirled, gathering flower petals and dust in a cloud. She bared her teeth at the woman she once called mother and dug her heel into her horse, charging straight for her.   
“Rhea!” Sitri roared and swept her arms out in a wide arc to conjure up a powerful gale. The wind jumped to obey and sliced through the tall grass.

Rhea leisurely raised her arms and sent a blast of wind out to meet Sitri’s. Blades of cut grass and lacerated flowers rained around them.

As her horse neared Rhea, Sitri steered it off to the side slightly and drew her dagger from her belt. At the sight, Rhea smirked, seemingly already knowing what it was she was about to do.

“Get. _ Away from her! _ ” bellowed the Queen and she jumped from her horse with her dagger held aloft and poised straight for Rhea’s heart. 

The dagger hurtled towards its target.

And was met with only air.

Residual light from a warp spell shimmered and faded away as Sitri tumbled roughly through the grass. Sharp pains and beginnings of bruises ran up the length of her forearms as they took the brunt of her fall.

The pain was quickly disregarded though as Sitri scrambled up and looked to where she saw Byleth last. 

She too was gone.

When Jeralt and Edelgard finally broke through the clearing, they took in the sight of the half destroyed meadow, and the Queen holding herself as she cried and cried.

Alois dispatched battalions as soon as the monarchs returned without their princess. They were sent in virtually all directions with the orders to kill Rhea on sight and rescue the princess at any cost. But without clear knowledge of where Rhea is hidden, the search could take days and Sitri didn’t wish to think about the state Byleth would be in.

Jeralt was about to escort Sitri to their bedroom, but the Queen insisted that they joined Alois in the war room. There was no time for her to drown in anguish, her daughter was  _ taken _ . She poured herself over the map of Fodlan, eyeing every detail of the recorded terrains and the figurines representing their deployed battalions occupying them. 

Meanwhile, Edelgard stood off in the corner of the room, insisting that she be present in the Queen and King’s time of need just as her own parents had years prior. Though, unlike them, she felt superfluous at the moment, unsure of what she could possibly contribute. It wasn’t as though she could call upon Adrestian forces to aid in the search. Any letters she may send to Enbarr would take days to reach and days longer to amass a large enough search party to comb through all of Adrestia.

However, it was unlikely that Rhea would seek refuge in Adrestia, she hated the region with burning passion. Quite literal ‘burning passion’ as the woman’s armies were more than willing to set fires to the farmlands and villages meant to intimidate the Empire from joining forces with Sitri. Then again, hiding in Adrestia would prove a sound strategy because of that fact. As risky as it was, it would still be the last place  _ anyone _ would look.

Edelgard shook her head. Perhaps that was too easy. From her studies on the history of Garreg Mach, the Archbishop doesn’t strike her as the type to look past old grudges against those who’ve blasphemed against the Church, at least in  _ her _ eyes. No, there was something else they were all missing, and it felt just within their reach. Could it possibly have something to do with whatever a ‘crest stone’ was?

The sound of Queen Sitri slamming a hand down on the table startled Edelgard out of her line of thought. Queen Sitri heaved for breath and her fingers, though curling into a tight fist, was shaking. “Where are you?” she demanded, as if hoping that the map would show her the way.

“Queen Sitri,” Edelgard said gently. “How crucial is this ‘crest stone’ in playing into Rhea’s decision making?”

“Everything,” the Queen answered without hesitation. “She will need someplace private and out of the way to perform the ritual.”

“The resurrection of the Goddess?” Edelgard guessed, earning her a surprised look from the two monarchs.

“You know about that?”

Edelgard shrugged, noncommittal. She stepped out from her corner and traced a finger over the map idly. “Only what the scriptures say, or, at least, the debate between translations. I’m not devout to the degree of having it memorized, of course, but I am aware that there is vehement debate about the proper translation of Resurrection versus Return. The former Archbishop is in the first camp, I take it? The Goddess is dead?”

“Yes, she is. Rhea has been working towards her Resurrection longer than either of us could hope to comprehend.”

Edelgard didn’t like the sound of that. It still sent a shiver through her. “And am I safe to assume she wouldn’t return to her usual place where she conducted previous rituals.”

Sitri chuckled wryly. “Not likely. She held the rituals here beneath the palace.”

The princess grimaced. How morbid. “I see...”

“She had a lot of fortresses between here and Faerghus,” Jeralt chimed in and pointed to various spots on the map. “They were destroyed soon after the war, but I’ve sent scouting parties out over the years in case she got any crafty ideas of rebuilding one of them. 

“Yes, and last we checked, they’re as demolished as we left them,” Alois confirmed.

Edelgard held a hand to her chin. A decrepit fortress sounded awfully rudimentary for someone of Rhea’s caliber.

“My mother wouldn’t resort to using them again,” Sitri concurred, as if reading Edelgard’s mind. “Which still places us at square one.”

“What about places of religious significance?” Edelgard proprosed. “I don’t want to draw haphazard conclusions on your own mother, but as the former Archbishop, she is inclined to draw heavily from symbolism for something like this, yes?”

Sitri frowned and stared back down at the map. “The churches within Garreg Mach have verbally denounced Rhea as their leader, religious or otherwise, and monuments and prayer sites are far too public. Unless...”

“Unless?” Edelgard urged.

“Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of it sooner?” She laid a finger over a spot just north of Garreg Mach. “Zanado.”

“Zanado?” Jeralt and Edelgard parroted at the same time.

Sitri shook her head. “Right, you both most likely know it as the Red Canyon. It’s something of a mythology that Zanado was once where the Goddess dwelled, and also where she ultimately perished. I imagine that it’s hard to believe when the site is notorious for bandit settlements.”

Well,  _ that  _ much Edelgard was already privy to. “If that is the case, why go there now?”

Sitri deflated and settled back into her chair with a long, weary sigh. “Byleth and I are prime candidates to house the Crest Stone within ourselves and become a vessel for the Goddess to inhabit. She now has Byleth and so everything about this coming ritual is to be the exception, the zenith of her life’s work.” She buried her face in her hands. “If only I had figured out where she’d been sooner.”

Jeralt kissed her forehead. “We know now.”

“And if we’re too late? Or if I’m wrong?”

“We didn’t win a whole war for you to let your mother win now. Let’s go get our daughter back.”

“I will amass troops right away,” Alois announced and rushed out of the room.

“I am coming as well,” Edelgard bowed.

“No, Princess, you’ve done enough for us. The last thing we need is to endanger your life for our sakes,” Sitri protested. To which, Edelgard smiled. 

“With all due respect, Your Majesty, my parents had done so for you years ago. It feels only right that I do the same for your daughter. Besides,” she glanced down at her boots, her calm and professional demeanor falling away to bashfulness for just a moment, “we have a deal to uphold.”

***

The ride to the Red Canyon was swift. The sun was beginning its descent when they arrived and it was then that Edelgard learned how the canyon earned its name. The setting sunlight painted the rocky terrain in a rich red and orange palette, to the point that it looked like they were about to enter a pit of fire.

Edelgard and Hubert rode close to the Queen and King, donned in the borrowed armor and colors of Garreg Mach. Even with a battalion behind them, no one knew what to expect from the coming confrontation. But the orders remained the same: kill Rhea on sight; rescue the princess.

Edelgard stared awestruck at the scale of the canyon. Beyond the abandoned tents and broken weapons left by bandits, there was no hiding the vestiges of an ancient civilization. Large blocks of limestone were scattered about in various states of demolition. Weeds and mountain lilies grew where they could and were the only signs of life amongst the few traces of structures that may have once been houses. Despite its surface tranquility, there was an undeniable eeriness to the canyon and Edelgard couldn’t help but feel like she was trespassing. Even the horses’ clomping hooves were subdued beneath the tense atmosphere.

She snuck a glance over at Queen Sitri and noticed the settling melancholy on the woman’s face. It was as though she was feeling the echoes of life that had once inhabited this land, like an inherited agony of what was lost here.

“I can’t tell if it’s poetic or melodramatic that my mother would attempt to resurrect the Goddess in the place where she had perished,” Sitri pondered.

“Melodramatically poetic?” Edelgard offered. “Or poetically melodramatic?”

Sitri hummed. “The latter has a sort of ring to it, I think.”

They ventured deeper into the canyon, passing by more ruins until eventually they arrived at a vast clearing with what looked to be lines of tombs on 

“Well, well!” a voice boomed over the canyon, putting everyone on alert right away. Standing high above them where the ruins of a temple and crumbled statues flanked her, was Rhea. Her mint green hair flowed in the wind as she looked down at them, namely the woman who was leading the charge. “I didn’t expect an audience for this momentous day.”

“Rhea! Where is my daughter?” Sitri demanded.

The woman cackled as she descended from the temple on chipped limestone stairsteps. “Patience, my dear, you will see her soon enough.”

“For a woman facing a whole army by herself, she is awfully confident,” Edelgard murmured to herself.

“Underestimating her is the last thing you want to do, Princess. Trust me on that.” Jeralt murmured back. His hand was already on his lance strapped to his back.

She nodded and palmed her axe at her waist. Edelgard lifted her eyes to the temple where Rhea came from. Byleth must be in there. Beneath her, Hubert stomped an impatient hoof and she patted his neck soothingly.

Rhea reached the bottom step, carrying herself like a saint amongst mortals. “I’d admonish you all for trespassing on holy ground. But if you lay down your weapons now, I will allow you to bear witness to the return of the Goddess with your lives intact.”

No one moved. They already had their orders. 

Wordlessly, Sitri drew her sword. Rhea smirked as the rest of the army did the same to their own weapons. But even from where she sat, Edelgard could see that cold, dark glint that flashed over the woman’s eyes. “It’s amusing that you think you’d be able to stop this. If you won’t witness the Goddess’s rebirth, then you shall see her in Judgement.”

Green light flooded the canyon, horses whinnied in alarm and soldiers shielded their against the brightness.

An ear-splitting roar followed soon after, and as they all lowered their arms, a large dragon stood tall and imposing over them. It was white moonlight and four curling horns sprouted from its head. Sharp claws dug into the dry earth like it was wet clay and a thick spiked tail swung behind her like a chained mace.

Is this what they fought in the war? Her father certainly didn’t mention that the Archbishop could assume such a form. A few of the soldiers around her cried out in alarm, but the Queen and King met the beast’s figure with unwavering glares.

Edelgard stared, her mouth agape at the sight before her. “Can the Queen—?”

“No I can’t, Edelgard,” Sitri cut off. “Nor do I need to.”

Then she raised her sword, fracturing the orange sunlight with her blade, making it look as though it was blazing. As dull as her armor was from previous use, the Queen looked as regal and powerful as she did over twenty years ago when she first laid eyes on her mother’s draconic form.

“We’ll keep her distracted. When you see an opening, head up there and get Byleth,” Jeralt ordered Edelgard as he readied his lance.

“What about you and the Queen?”

“Oh we’ve done this song and dance before,” he dismissed. “Don’t worry about us.”

“Yes, that’s  _ my  _ job,” Alois chimed as he fell in step beside them with his battleaxe at the ready. 

Edelgard complied with a shaky nod, “Understood.”

Then with a rallying cry, Sitri and Jeralt kicked their horses into action, charging for the dragon.

Edelgard rode off to the side, careful to stay out of Rhea’s line of sight as she guided Hubert towards the temple steps.

Soldiers and waves of magical attacks swarmed the dragon until eventually a spear embedded itself into Rhea’s arm. With a frustrated roar, the dragon spun around, swinging her tail in a powerful sweep. 

Many soldiers who were unable to duck in time were launched backward. They slammed painfully against the ruins, meanwhile the steeds of the Queen and King were knocked away from beneath them. Hubert was no exception as he and his rider caught on the tail and tumbled to the unforgiving earth as well.

Edelgard recovered quickly and scrambled towards her horse. At the same time, Rhea bellowed, “Children of Sothis, rise and defend our Mother!” She let out a powerful screech that tore through the canyon, vibrating through Edelgard like a rippling pond. Through the draconic discord, the princess could hear the sounds of stone cracking and breaking. The tombs were opening and, even worse, things were emerging out from them.

Sitri and Jeralt helped one another to their feet and picked up their fallen weapons as they watched smaller dragons in various states of decay emerge from their graves. 

“Well, that’s new,” Jeralt grunted as he stretched and popped his back. Then he nudged his wife. “Think you could do something like that too, hun?”

She swatted his arm, fixing him with a stern pout.

“Right okay, okay I’m focusing. Soldiers!” he called out and began to relay a new set of orders. Meanwhile Sitri went about to heal the ones in need.

Edelgard tore her attention away from the fray and scrambled over to her fallen horse. Hubert had gained a few shallow scratches, but there was a knot in his leg that made her heart sink. There was no way he could run, not for the rest of this battle. She turned her head back towards the top of the temple where Princess Byleth was, then looked back down at her horse. She’ll have to go the rest of the way on foot. But first she needed to at least get him away from the battle until she could come back.

“Hubert, I need you to stand,” she told him and wrapped her arms around his neck to get him to roll over.

He protested with a weak whinny.

“I know, I know, but you need to get out of the way of danger.  _ Please. _ ”

A weak huff and a moment later, Hubert rolled from laying on his side, rested on his legs, and finally heaved himself up to stand. His front left leg shook and he unconsciously lifted it to keep the pressure off.

“Good boy. Over here now.” Edelgard guided him away slowly, mindful of his limp until he could settle behind a large dirt mound. He sighed in relief as he laid back down. 

“Rest now, I’ll be back.”

Hubert pushed his nose against her chest in encouragement and she patted him in return. She gathered her axe and the two throwing axes borrowed from the armory. She eyed the summit and bounced on her feet. “I can do this,” she said, and dashed out from their hiding place.

Right away, she had to throw herself to the ground as an undead dragon leaped over her and into a group of awaiting soldiers. She only took a second to catch her breath before she pushed herself back up to sprint.

Another dragon sprung up from behind a fallen pillar and made to swipe at her. She ducked, feeling the wind pass overhead. With a mighty swing, Edelgard brought her axe across the dragon’s jaw, sending it staggering backwards. She was about to advance on it when another squad of soldiers swarmed on top of it.

“We’ll handle this one, Princess!” Alois called to her before joining his troops. She nodded in response and continued onward.

She made up the first step of the temple.

“What’s this?” she heard off to her right and before she could react, Rhea leaped and the impact of her landing knocked Edelgard off balance. She held a claw against Edelgard’s chestplate, pinning her against the first step. “I know those eyes anywhere,” the dragon mused, digging her claw deeper, gouging through the metal like it was merely cloth. “Another Hresvelg here to meddle in family affairs? My, how history has a nasty habit of rhyming with itself.”

Her axe was just out of reach. She stretched her arm for it as much as she could.

She felt the claw against her chainmail. 

“I will give you the same choice as I gave your father, little one. Walk away now, and you will be spared.”

Her fingers grazed the end of the handle. Just a  _ little more _ .

Rhea growled and swiped the axe further out of reach.

“No!” Edelgard cried.

“Make your choice, Hresvelg! My patience is running  _ very  _ thin.”

“I will not surrender!” she barked in the dragon’s face. Her hand snuck down towards her waist.

“Then  _ die _ .” 

Just as Rhea brought her other paw down for a strike, Edelgard unhooked one of her throwing axes and sliced it against the paw holding her down. At the same time, a burst of flame exploded against the side of Rhea’s muzzle.

Rhea cried out and stumbled off of the fallen princess.

Edelgard looked over at the spellcaster and saw Queen Sitri making her advance. In one hand she held a ball of flame while in the other she held Edelgard’s axe.

“Thank you, Majesty,” Edelgard said as she stood.

The Queen only nodded and tossed the axe to her before summoning lightning and addressing Rhea once more. “Your fight is with me!”

Edelgard didn’t linger to see the outcome of the declaration and she dashed up the stairs two at a time.

Amidst the onslaught of fire blasts and currents of lightning being shot at her, Rhea caught sight of how far Edelgard had climbed and shouted, “No!”

With a heavy beat of her wings, Rhea staggered Sitri just long enough to open her mouth and conjured a ball of light within it.

Sitri gasped and clambered up the steps, focusing her magic to her forearms.

Edelgard was halfway up when she felt the air around her grow hotter and hotter. She looked back and saw the gathering ball of energy growing in the dragon’s maw. It shot forth with a thundering  _ boom _ , and with no shield to protect herself, the princess could only pitifully raise her arm up and waited for the blast to reach her.

But it didn’t. 

Her arms fell away. Standing between her and Rhea’s blast was Sitri and a giant spectral shield. The Queen held her forearms crossed over her face as she withstood the blast. 

“Go!” she shouted over her shoulder.

Edelgard hesitated, wanting to help her. But what could she do against a beam of fire? So she kept onward.

Finally, she reached the top of the summit. She bent over, hands braced against her knees as she heaved for breath. She glanced about the temple, or rather what was left of one. The parts of the roof were missing—though that didn’t stop the pillars from standing tall at their posts—and only two conjoining walls were still standing: the entrance and the left side. The rest of the space was filled with more toppled statues, rusted braziers, and overturned stone pews.

At the far end of the temple, bathed in the orange sunlight was a stone slab with markings that Edelgard couldn’t begin to make out, but that was irrelevant when she realized who was laying on top of it. 

“Princess,” Edelgard sighed in relief and made her way closer.

“Hresvelg!”

Edelgard whirled around as Rhea stalked forward into the temple. Numbing, icy dread filled her chest. If Rhea was here, was the Queen...?

“You will not keep my mother from returning,” Rhea fumed.

The princess brandished her axe, taking steps backward as the dragon pressed the advance. “You’d take your own granddaughter’s chance to live for someone who’s already died?”

“I’ve come too far, I’ve waited too long. It must come to pass. Fodlan needs their Goddess.” She attacked with a swipe of her claws. Edelgard rolled out of the way and broke into a mad dash to place distance between her and the dragon.

Rhea turned and whipped her long tail against the nearest pillar, sending large bits of stone flying towards the princess. Instinctively, she brought her arm up to shield her head of the oncoming debris, jumping over one of the stone pews just in time to avoid being crushed. 

She frantically dug for an idea, some sort of plan. There was no way she could simply beat Rhea on her own with just an axe.

Pebbles and centuries-old dust fell from above, coating her armor. If Rhea destroyed any more pillars, the ceiling was going to collapse on top of them. Wait a minute.

She glanced up. There were still large parts of the roof still being held up by pillars. 

That’s it! That’s what she needs.

“You will not stop this,” Rhea barked. “Her heart belongs to the Goddess.” She snapped her jaws. 

Edelgard dodged out of the way and darted behind another pillar where she readied a throwing axe. She huffed a steadying breath, sidestepped out from behind the pillar, and threw the weapon straight for Rhea’s neck. 

The axe struck true and lodged itself in the dragon’s thick scales. While it wasn’t enough to fatally wound, it  _ was _ enough to agitate. Rhea roared and swiped the pillar away in her irritation. Edelgard ducked and braced herself as the pillar was pulverized and the dragon shook off the debris like it was nothing. 

Her ears rang from the heavy impact, leaving her almost in a daze. But she managed to peer up at the ceiling and, just as she hoped, it was beginning to fail. Just a few more.

“You’re only delaying the inevitable, child,” Rhea taunted and reared back for another attack.

“Tempting fate seems to run in my family then,” she shot back. She hurried to stand up and bolted for the next pillar.

Rhea growled. “Obnoxiousness more like.” Another pillar gone and Edelgard went for the next. “Stop hiding and  _ fight _ .” With the last of her patience, Rhea held her attack just long enough for the princess to think she’d make it behind cover before striking out a claw. As soon as Edelgard evaded, Rhea’s head shot forth and struck against the princess’s chestplate with one of her horns.

The metallic  _ clang _ from the impact resonated through the room like a thunderclap and the sound of Edelgard slamming against a pillar was equally devastating.

Air rushed from her lungs from both the force and the metal bending painfully into her chest and back. She fumbled to free herself from it lest she succumb to suffocation. 

Her vision swam. Dry heaves and coughs wracked her body as it greedily sucked in as much air as it could despite her overwhelming need to  _ move _ . 

The dragon loomed tall, baring her teeth down at the fallen princess. Edelgard clambered back, but there was nowhere for her to go with the pillar at her back and Rhea’s massive paws blocking her left and right sides. She cursed aloud and she looked to Byleth in despair. She had failed her...

“That’s right, little Hresvelg, pray for what little salvation your poor misguided soul may glean from the Goddess’s mercy. She will awaken any minute now. It’s almost a shame that you will not be alive to see.”

A pebble bounced off the top of Edelgard’s head, pulling her attention upward. Through the casted shadows of the sunset, her eyes traced the travel cracks webbing across the weakened ceiling. More dust and rubble fell, raining all around them yet Rhea didn’t seem to notice.

“Prepare yourself, your Judgement is upon you.” 

Edelgard kept her eyes up for a moment longer. Then looked Rhea dead in the eye. “You first.”

“Such insolence!” Rhea pulled back a paw, razor claws poised to deliver the finishing strike.

Just then, a large slab of the ceiling came tumbling down, knocking Rhea’s raised paw away. The dragon raised her head in alarm as more and more of the roof caved in on itself.

Edelgard didn’t linger to watch what came next. She scurried out of the way, narrowly escaping the onslaught of falling debris before she huddled within a hollowed crevice of a statue. She curled in on herself, shielding her head in her arms and she clenched her teeth through the deafening clamor of collapsing stonework and the anguished cries of a dying Rhea.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, everything went still. As the dust settled and what remained of the temple was plunged into silence, Edelgard didn’t move from her shelter. She trembled, adrenaline still coursing through her with nowhere left to go. 

She chanced a look, peeling open an eye. Silver scales dulled with a thick coat of dust peered through a pile of stone and rubble. The dragon didn’t stir as Edelgard uncurled and pushed herself to stand. Her knees wobbled beneath her as relief settled over her. Rhea was defeated. 

Pushing past the feeling of wanting to rest, she made her way over towards Byleth. Once she was close enough, she saw that the princess looked far different than how she first met her, but there was no mistaking that it was her. She was dressed in a strange regalia of deep violet and a golden headpiece accented with bright ribbons tied to her mint green hair. It looked as though she were peacefully slumbering.

“Your Highness?” she tentatively called. 

Byleth didn’t stir, not even a twitch in her otherwise blank expression.

“Princess Byleth?”

Still nothing.

Concern came flooding in and Edelgard lowered her ear to Byleth’s chest. No... no heartbeat?

Edelgard recoiled with a gasp, her hands flying to her mouth in shock. But how could that be? It didn’t make  _ sense _ . After everything that’s happened, Rhea would have her killed for her goal?

Edelgard fell to one knee, dazed with shock and disbelief. So they’d been too late. She wished that Rhea was still alive.  _ Where is the divinity? _ Edelgard wanted to demand.  _ Where is your precious Goddess? Was killing your granddaughter worth it? _

She peeled away her battered gauntlets and tossed them away. She grasped Byleth’s limp hand gingerly in hers and pressed her forehead against the back of it. “My deepest apologies, Your Highness,” Edelgard choked. Yet it didn’t feel like the action and her words were enough. After all, they did not meet as heirs to their respective thrones; they met as  _ themselves _ , both unaware of each other’s titles, and enjoyed the company they shared regardless.

In this moment, she did not feel like the princess of Adrestia coming to the aid of an ally princess, rather she was simply Edelgard. And so, she rose, shedding her regality and instead moved to embrace Byleth as a friend, lifting her up so that her head was resting against Edelgard’s shoulder. 

Edelgard hugged her tight, noting that her sorrow as a princess failing in a task was incomparable to what she felt now. She knew that it would only worsen when she inevitably had to carry her down to her awaiting parents. She didn’t want to imagine the anguish of the Queen and King.

“I’m so sorry, miss,” she said, her voice hushed. Even as she mourned, the tenacious side of her mind desperately tried to find a solution to this. There just  _ had _ to be.

Unconsciously, Edelgard hugged the princess tighter and her fingers curled around her limp bicep. Her eyes fell closed as she tried to reason with herself that it was  _ finished _ . There was nothing she could possibly... Wait. Something pulsed beneath her fingertips.

Her eyes snapped open in confusion. She concentrated. Another pulse. 

She lowered her ear back to the Byleth’s chest. It was as silent as she had found it and yet blood still jumped to meet Edelgard’s fingers. Was Byleth still alive? Even without a heartbeat? How was this possible?

Rhea had said something during their fight.  _ Her heart belongs to the Goddess _ , Edelgard recalled. What had she meant by that? Was her heart literally missing? Or perhaps it has something to do with the Crest Stone?

If Byleth’s heart was claimed by the Goddess because of it, then there must be some way for Edelgard to claim it back.

Her eyes drifted down to Byleth’s lips. A kiss...? The most human thing she could offer in the face of divinity. She shook her head. Surely that couldn’t be the solution. Not to mention how  _ indecent _ it was. Besides, did the princess even think of her in such a way? As flirtatious as she had been at the lake, she didn’t want to just assume her feelings. Edelgard had hoped that they would meet again and she’d ask to court her properly.

_ But what if it worked _ , chimed in her curious side, and it has yet to steer her wrong. It’s biggest boon was that it had led her to Byleth in the first place.

She delicately traced a thumb across Byleth’s bottom lip and bit her own in trepidation. “If this works, I hope you will forgive me, miss.”

Drawing one last breath, Edelgard pressed their lips together. She lingered there, uncertain of how long was appropriate.

The princess’s lips were cold at first. Then a hint of warmth blossomed between them. From their close proximity, Edelgard thought she heard a dull crack reverberate in Byleth’s chest. She pulled back.  _ What was that? _

But the question quickly fizzled as a soft groan emitted from the princess’s throat. Edelgard stared, mouth agape as the mint green of Byleth’s hair faded back to its original teal. A sharp inhale passed the princess’s parted lips and her eyes slowly peeled open, revealing dazed cornflower irises glazed with disorientation.

After a few blinks, Byleth’s eyes finally landed on Edelgard. Her head tilted with curiosity, but there was familiarity in her smile. “Hello again, miss.”

Edelgard laughed breathlessly and held both Byleth’s hands in hers. “Hello again. I can’t believe that worked. It was just a silly idea.” Then she added with a shameful bow of her head. “Though, I must humbly apologize for overstepping my bounds.”

The air turned tense as Edelgard awaited the princess’s response. She was ready to be admonished, rejected, sent away from the princess’s sight, and she’d do those willingly.

But instead, she felt Byleth squeeze her hands, pulling her attention upward to see that she wore a soft smile. “Thank you, miss. Considering that it worked, I don’t find it silly at all.”

“I-I’m glad.”

She looked around. “Where are we?”

“The Red Canyon. Rhea took you here.”

“Rhea... Is she gone?” Edelgard nodded, and she sighed. Whether it was out of relief or melancholy, it was hard to discern. “It’s strange. Despite what she’s done, I still wish that things had been different enough to maybe I could’ve gotten to know her.”

“That’s not unreasonable. She was your grandmother after all.”

After a moment, Byleth sighed again. “And here I wanted to ensure that our next meeting would be in higher spirits.”

Edelgard shook her head goodnaturedly and reached up to card her fingers through Byleth’s bangs. “Think nothing of it. I’m just relieved to see you alive and well. Though, I should ask, how are you feeling?”

Byleth paused, brows furrowed in thought. “I can’t feel my legs.”

Edelgard nodded, expecting as much. “That’s alright, miss, I will carry you. Your parents will want to know that you’re alright.”

“My parents?” Byleth startled. “They’re here?”

“They’re just outside.” Though Edelgard didn’t wish to think about the fate of the Queen, lest she immediately assume the worst.

“So... you know who I am.” It wasn’t a question.

Another nod. “I do.”

“You’re not bothered by it?”

“Not at all,” Edelgard smiled. “At any rate, we should leave this place, Your Highness. I think I’ve challenged the integrity of this structure enough.”

Byleth returned her smile and with mirth shining in her cornflower gaze. “Just Byleth. And we made a deal, miss.”

Edelgard blinked. Then chuckled. “Yes, you’re right. Thank you for the reminder.” She bowed her head, “My name is Edelgard.”

“Edelgard? As in ‘Adrestia’s imperial princess’ Edelgard?”

“The very same.”

“Oh.” Byleth looked away bashfully. “I’ll give you a proper curtsy when my legs are stronger.”

“I believe we are beyond formalities,” she jested.

“Says the one who will undoubtedly return to calling me ‘Your Highness’ when we see my parents,” Byleth quipped.

“Fair, fair. Now, let’s leave this place.”

It took a few tries, but the two eventually settled Byleth into a comfortable bridal carry. As they passed the pile of rubble, Byleth stared after it forlornly. “Goodbye, grandmother,” she murmured, prompting Edelgard to hold her tighter in comfort.

“I just realized,” she said as they crossed through the exit. “What am I wearing?”

“I’m afraid I have no clue, Byleth.”

The princess relaxed against Edelgard’s shoulder. “You know, I like how you say my name.”

Such a candid comment ignited the pink in her cheeks. “In that case, I’ll make sure to use it often.”

“Even in front of my parents?” Byleth raised a challenging brow, to which Edelgard met with a smirk that belied her persistent blush.

“One thing at a time, Princess.”

Edelgard carried her down, down, down the steps, blanketed by the twilight that had been casted over the canyon. Scattered over the battlefield was the battalion with a handful having their wounds being tended to while others disposed of the corpses of the undead dragons.

At the base of the stairs, King Jeralt knelt beside his wife as a healer wrapped the woman’s arm in a thick layer of bandages. Meanwhile, the Queen looked to be trying her best to soothe her worrying husband despite the fatigue in her posture and exhaustion apparent in her expression.

While the sight was endearing, Edelgard felt her umpteenth wave of relief at seeing the Queen alive. Though she wanted to climb down the step faster, her cargo was far too precious to be careless now.

The healer finished his final round of gauze and tied it off. “There you are, Majesty.”

“Thank you,” Sitri nodded wearily. Her arm had been badly scorched from Rhea’s attack, though luckily her shield had taken most of the blast before breaking. Her magic reserves were all but depleted, leaving her extremely spent.

Movement entered her peripheral vision, drawing her eyes to it. Elation flooded through her, making her forget her exhaustion altogether. “Oh, Byleth!”

She shot up and dashed towards the two princesses. 

“Your Majesty, be careful of your arm!” the healer fretted after her.

She couldn’t care less about anything else at that moment. Though it was awkward, she pulled Edelgard into a tight embrace in a tearful flurry of thank you’s, then went to pull Byleth into her own arms.

The three women stumbled, nearly falling over together in their shared excited relief, until they eventually settled to sit on the ground. Sitri smothered Byleth in kisses, much to the princess’s embarrassment and Edelgard’s amusement.

Jeralt joined them to give Byleth a bone crushing hug of his own and a hearty clap on Edelgard’s back that made her wince. She knew she was going to wake up with a bruise the next day, if not from her fight with Rhea then certainly from Jeralt’s unconventional show of gratitude. But she smiled up at him regardless.

Soon after, they collected Hubert from where Edelgard had left him and they began the trip back towards Garreg Mach. Due to their conditions, the princesses rode in one of the carts where they snuck glances at one another. 

Their fingers crept closer and closer until they were able to lace them together. For the rest of the journey home, their hands were warm, kindling the content nestled in their hearts. And the matching smiles worn on their lips certainly did not go unnoticed by the Queen and King.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for sticking through to the end <33   
> as always you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Ashtree111)


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